


Hey, Brother

by awkward_ace



Series: Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Attempt at Humor, Bromance, F/M, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Multi, Pre-Romance, Rooftops, Smoking, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkward_ace/pseuds/awkward_ace
Summary: A collection of scenes and little shots featuring the relationship between Haldir Lavellan and Cullen Rutherford.They're two very different people from two very different backgrounds. One wouldn't think they would get along as well as they do, but there you are. A scarred former Templar and a wild, outcast Dalish, taking on the world one day at a time. Cullen just wishes Hal would stop dragging him to the store in the middle of the night because he's out of chips.Modern AU setting in the same universe as Lusty Laser Tag.





	1. Snack Attack!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it happened. A universe has exploded in my head. These stories take place in the same modern universe as Lusty Laser tag. They occur before the events in that story, and take place over time leading up to it, and will probably take place in the time after it, too, depending on how many more decide to start dancing around in my head. I'll try to note where they are in the timeline. 
> 
> This particular one, Snack Attack!, takes place relatively soon after Cullen has met Haldir, probably a few months and are still sort of getting to know Big Things about one another.

NOM NOM NOM

A buzzing noise stirred Cullen out of his fitful doze and he lifted his head, blearily eyeing his phone on the nightstand. It lit up and buzzed again.

With a groan, Cullen reached out, missed, tried again and grabbed it, pulling it to his face to squint at the screen.

New text messages.

He hit the screen and the message window popped up:

_Haldir: Oi. Idiot shem. You awake?_

_Haldir: Of course you’re awake, you don’t fucking sleep, answer me_

_Haldir:_ [an inappropriately long string of random emojis]

_Haldir: Cullen_

_Haldir: CUUULLLEEEEEN_

_Cullen: It is 1 AM._

_Haldir:_ [picture of a happy looking ostrich head] _YAAAAY CULLEN! Get some clothes on, we’re going to the store_

_Cullen: What._

_Haldir: Out of salt and vinegar chips and instant noodles_

_Haldir: Need more_

_Cullen: What._

_Haldir: I’ll be there to pick you up in ten_

_Cullen: Are you fucking serious right now?_

No response came, so Cullen got up after a few minutes and, erring on the side of caution, changed into his jeans and an old t-shirt, toed his boots on. He was tying the laces as there came a rhythmic knocking on his door. Shaking his head, Cullen grabbed his phone and wallet.

_Cullen: Okay. You were serious._

_Haldir: Why would you think I wasn’t, have you met me?_

Cullen snagged his keys form their place by the door and opened it, found the elf standing outside it. “Fair point,” he said, and Haldir gave a little bow. The man shut and locked the door behind him, followed the elf to his jeep and swung into the passenger side as he started it up.

“Why now, though?” he felt compelled to ask.

“Because I’m hungry and that’s what I want. Bull ate the last of them, the ass.”

“Tell me, are all you Lavellans night-owls, or is it just you?”

“Eh, fifty-fifty.”

“Lucky me.”

“You like us,” Haldir sang at him as he merged onto empty streets, heading for the nearest 24/7 store. The night air was a little cool, refreshing, and it breezed through the open windows lazily, tossing his rumpled hair.

“I wasn’t given much choice,” Cullen retorted, “The whole lot of people you surround yourself with are aggressively friendly.”

“And you have been consumed into the Mother Body, Cullen Rutherford. Embrace. Be one with us in the Mother Body.”

“No. Just…that. No.”

“Too early?”

“ _Way_ too early.”

Haldir grinned wolfishly, his white teeth sharp and gleaming in the passing light of street lamps. It was a strange paradox, seeing a Dalish so well-adapted to living in a city, but at the same time still all but feral.

“Hmm. Sour straws, too.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow and glanced at his companion, “What?”

“Sour straws. I want those, too. I’m just making a list of all the shit food I will be purchasing.”

“Pria would cringe if she could hear you.”

“Ha! That harpy has a weakness for moon-pies and white cheddar popcorn, and if she denies that, she’s lying!”

Cullen chuckled quietly and set his elbow on the door, rested his head against his hand, “So. Chips, instant noodles, and sour straws. Anything else? You’ll need something to drink.”

“Oooh, that is a good point. Hmmm. Something orange and fizzy.”

“Alcoholic?”

“Nah. Just fizzy. What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, idiot. It’s not just me who’s going to be hastening an early death on this venture.”

This time Cullen laughed, scrubbed his fingers through his hair, “Something chocolate, then. The darker, the better.”

“You like your chocolate like I like my men.”

“What the hell, Hal.”

“What? Dark and a little bitter!”

“You’re warped.”

“And proud, baby, and proud.”

They pulled into a rather empty lot, got a space near the entrance, and the two men bailed out, walked inside shoulder to shoulder. Haldir eyed the shopping carts, then eyed Cullen, who eyed him back.

“No,” Cullen said. “I will not push you. You are an adult person.”

“I only look it. Live a little, Rutherford.”

“No.”

Haldir pouted at him. Cullen was unyielding.

“Damn,” the elf finally relented, and snagged a hand basket. “No fun.”

“I got out of bed and came to the store with you before dawn. Count yourself lucky.”

“I like testing limits. Here, you carry.”

Cullen found the basket shoved into his hands and he sighed in resignation as they turned down the aisle and Haldir began inspecting the bags of salt-and-vinegar chips, carefully probing and listening. His ears twitched faintly.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing which one is the fullest. They sound different.”

“Pretty sure that’s watermelon.”

“And chip bags,” he made a triumphant sound and snagged one, then seemed to reconsider, and grabbed another, deposited them in the basket. Cullen was dragged along to the candy aisle, and he cringed as Haldir selected the biggest pack of sour straws he could find. He hoped the elf wouldn’t eat them all in one go—he’d have no mouth left afterwards, otherwise.

“Right. So. Darker the better, yeah?” Haldir looked back at him. “You like mixed stuff, or are you a purist?”

“I’m not that picky.”

“I’m learning a lot about you, right now. Some questions have been answered.”

“Are you insinuating things about my love life?”

“Your lack of one. But yes.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Haldir grinned, selected several different chocolate bars and dropped them into the basket. “You’re fun, for an uptight idiot shem,” he said. Cullen rolled his eyes, voice coming out dry and flat, “Thanks.”

“Welcome!”

Cullen followed the entirely too chipper elf along the next several aisles, tucking his free hand in his pocket. Haldir paused in front of the selection of soft drinks, found several orange options to choose from.

“You know, I didn’t have anything like a coke or what’s in that basket until I was about nineteen,” he mused, crossing his arms over her chest as he debated between orange cases.

Cullen looked at him, eyebrows raised, “Really? Why? Was it not allowed in your clan?”

The elf shook his head, “Nope. Heavily frowned on. Sometimes things were smuggled in, but I could never get my hands on them. I was nineteen when my family branched off on their own, and my parents and Samel were more relaxed about some rules. I got _so sick_.”

“Drank too much?”

“I wasn’t used to the sugar.”

Cullen glanced at the basket in his hand and looked back at him, an unspoken question passing between them. Haldir grinned, “I’m good, now. Little more acclimated, and careful about quantity.”

“Could have fooled me on the quantity.”

“Oh! _Touché,_ ser!”

A six pack of blood-orange soda was selected and deposited into the basket. “Anything for you, Commander?”

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

The pair moved along, turned down the frozen section as they came to it. Cullen absently looked at the long line of ice cream that ran down their side.

“Why’d your family branch off?”

“What?” Haldir glanced at him, a little sharply, and Cullen winced. “Sorry. That…it’s none of my business. Forget I asked.”

He felt the elf’s gaze boring into the side of his head for several moments before the other male looked away, stopping in front of a case filled with gelato.

“My uncle and the Keeper had a…disagreement. Over Pria. So, he left, and my parents and I followed.”

“That’s a hell of a disagreement.” He’d never heard of a Dalish splitting away like that, didn’t think it was done. They seemed to have such strong communal ties in their clan…but then again, he also knew very little able the Dalish, period.

“It really was,” Haldir replied wryly before pulling a tub from the case and setting it in the basket.

“Can I…is it okay if I ask? What happened?” Cullen queried hesitantly as they headed for the check-out lanes. Haldir glanced at him, eyeing him thoughtfully, but didn’t answer as they turned into a lane and Cullen set the basket on the belt. They remained silent, Haldir only returning the cashier’s greeting and handing them a few bills to pay.

Cullen grabbed two of the bags, Haldir got the remaining one, and they continued back to the jeep in quiet, were inside and buckled in before the elf broke the silence.

“My Abi and uncle have always been…odd, for Dalish,” he said, starting the vehicle and pulling away from the parking space. “They were both always intensely curious about _everything_ , and have always asked questions that aren’t necessarily welcomed. And Samel has always been a hard skeptic about things—he says that he and my parents were probably too lenient with me and Pria, when we were children, about teaching us certain things. And my parents probably shouldn’t have told us all the non-Dalish stories and songs they did.”

They stopped at a light, Haldir drumming his fingers lightly on the wheel. “Anyway, Pria was picked to be First, when her magic showed up. She wasn’t completely thrilled about the prospect, but she accepted it. Samel didn’t. He wanted more for her, for both of us, really, wanted us to be able to go and see the world before we were slotted into roles in the Clan for the rest of our lives. So, he wrote letters to every university he could think of, asking them for scholarship opportunities or something for her; he kept writing even when they didn’t respond or rejected his questions, and then Abi heard about Madame de Fer and her interest in expanding her College with more diverse applicants. So he told Samel, and Uncle wrote to her, on the off-chance she might have some advice.”

The light changed, and the elf accelerated, coasting along quiet streets.

“I think we were all shocked when she wrote back.  I’m not sure, exactly, what Samel said or sent to her that got her attention, but she wanted to meet Pria. So we scraped a little money together for a train ticket and they went to Val Royeaux. Apparently the meeting went well, because within a week, Madame de Fer had put in a recommendation for Pria, and she got a scholarship for the Université Impériale. Within the month, she’d come back, gotten her things, and then Samel sent her back to study.”

Haldir paused, glanced at Cullen a little warily, who was looking at him quietly, waved a hand slightly to prompt him to continue.

The elf cleared his throat and did so, “He hadn’t told Keeper Deshenna what he was doing. She found out when they came back and Pria was packing. She was…very unhappy. She said that Samel was being unreasonable, that he was hurting the entire clan by sending Pria away. He disagreed and said that there were several other good choices for a First, and that Pria’s life was her own, and he’d be damned if he’d let anyone decide her path for her. She was going to be educated and see a little of the world, and if she wanted to be the First after that, then that was all well and good.

“It’s…what he did isn’t _done_ , Cullen. I mean, sure, it’s happened before, but it’s rare. We’re really big on tradition and…keeping things in our clans, in the community. Preserving what we have left. So, leaving for the outside, or marrying outside of the Dalish, it’s…it’s not _forbidden_ , exactly, but it’s very taboo. And our Keepers and elders are our leaders, our guides. Defying them…well, that’s tricky.”

“Was…did he get cast out?”

Haldir shook his head. “No. Not quite—to get cast out, you have to be branded ‘harellan’, or do something very naughty.”

“Such as?”

“Get involved with a Tevene. Or a Qunari. Or both.”

Cullen felt the air rush out of him sharply, as if he had been punched in the stomach, a pained jolt going through him as his eyes widened a bit. Haldir was staring out the windshield stoically, his voice calm and casual as if what he had just said wasn’t something that would rip the heart out of any decent person.

“ _Maker’s breath, Hal_.”

“Mm. Keeper Deshenna wasn’t wrong in her objections, there’s a lot of shit between the Elvhen and Tevinter that Dorian and I had to unpack and learn how to deal with. Fuck, we still deal with it.”

“But…casting you _out_ …?”

“I was given a choice. One was selfish but happy, the other selfless but miserable. I chose to be selfish. I figured it was better to take a chance at happiness than to live a noble lie and be screaming inside the entire time.”

“Hal, I’m—”

“Don’t.” Haldir’s tone sharpened, became cool and flinty, his face steeling. “You were not told so you could say you were sorry. I’m not interested in sympathy.”

Cullen bit the inside of his cheek, felt the faintest flush of shame. Haldir glanced at him, eyes reflecting the light, glowing a pale green as they did so. His expression softened a little, after a moment, “Apologies, Commander. That was a little harsh.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry if I offended.”

“Tch! Your face is offensive.”

Cullen snorted, a grin appearing, “That’s what you get for waking me up at one in the morning. So your uncle wasn’t cast out?”

Haldir was smiling crookedly, had resumed drumming on the steering wheel. “He was not,” he replied, “But it was clear that he wasn’t exactly welcome, either. So he loaded up his aravel and left, and my parents followed soon after, because Abi and Uncle are twins, and Elvhen twins don’t do well when apart. I had the option of staying, but I figured it was better to go with them, being of direct descent from a pair of weirdos.”

“I’m learning a lot about you, Hal. Some questions have been answered.”

A startled laugh escaped the elf, “Are you insinuating that _I’m_ a weirdo, Rutherford?”

“I am.”

“Hmm. That’s what I thought. Well, better to be the weirdo than the poor idiot stuck dealing with him.”

“Feisigh leat.”

Haldir squinted, his lips pursing. “Did you,” he said after a moment, slowly, “By any chance, just say ‘fuck you’?”

“In Fereldan. Yes.”

“…That was the prettiest way I have ever been told that. Say it again.”

“Seriously?”

“Spit it out, Rutherford.”

The man huffed a laugh, repeated himself, slowing it down a little so the elf could hear it. “ _Feisigh leat_.”

“ _Feisigh leat_ ,” he repeated carefully, grinning, “I like that. I’m keeping it.”

“You’re welcome?”

Haldir pulled up in front of Cullen’s building, threw the jeep into park and rummaged through the bags. “Always happy to learn new curse words,” he said, handing the chocolate bars to his companion, “Thanks for the company, Commander.”

Cullen accepted the sweets with a wry grin, “Just don’t let it become a thing, okay?”

“No promises.”

“Right. Good night, Hal.”

“Good night, fair ser.”

Cullen opened the door and clambered out.

“Cullen,” Haldir said, and the man paused, looking back at him curiously. He hesitated, seemed to be searching for a way to say something, and then smiled a little, shook his head, “Nevermind. It’s not important. Try to get some rest, okay?’

Cullen gave him an odd look but let it go—it either really wasn’t important, or Haldir would get around to saying whatever it was at some point in the future. “You too. Say hello to Bull and Dorian for me. And tell that cheating Vint that we’re due for another game.”

“You got it.”

Cullen shut the door and returned the wave Haldir gave him, fishing his keys out of his pocket as he headed inside. Once back in his apartment, he changed into his old flannel pants and flopped on the couch, intending to watch a stupid made-for-TV-horror-movie. Instead, he fell asleep, and for once wasn’t bothered with nightmares.

*****

Two weeks later, Haldir was up prowling quietly about the large flat he shared with Bull and Dorian. His partners had gone to bed several hours ago, and he could hear Bull snoring faintly in the bedroom.

He was sitting on the couch, knees drawn up towards his chest, watching in rapt fascination as an M.E. on the screen cut into a body when his phone buzzed beside him on the couch. Not looking away, his hand reached out and patted around until it found the device.

New text messages.

_Cullen: Hey, prat, you awake?_

_Cullen: Of course you’re awake, you don’t sleep. Answer me_

_Cullen: Hal._

_Haldir: Feisigh leat!_

_Cullen: Hal!_

_Haldir: This is an unexpected surprise. Do you need help hiding a body?_

_Haldir: I’m watching a documentary right now that has given me ideas_

_Cullen: I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that for liability reasons_

_Cullen: Hungry? I’m thinking pancakes_

_Haldir: It is 2 am, you stale Eggo waffle_

_Cullen: Pick you up in ten?_

_Haldir: Hell yes!_

 


	2. Smokin' in the Boys' Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen was looking to just get a little air, have a smoke, and think. Too bad Hal is the sort of friend who gives a shit about his people and joins them for smoke breaks and talking about...well, nothing important really. But sometimes talking about nothing important really is the best thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes places a little while after Snack Attack. Cullen's feeling for Pria are growing, he's gotten more comfortable around the whole group and feels at ease, and going for pancakes or snack shopping at odd hours of the morning is probably way more common place.

Everybody knows that smokin's not allowed in school

Cullen breathed out slowly and watched the smoke dissolve into wispy whorls that the breeze carried away. Pria’s rooftop was empty and quiet, with only the hum of traffic below on the street and the occasional sound of laughter and people talking as they walked by on the sidewalk or the door to the shop opened; he didn’t quite want to be around everyone at the moment, but being able to hear them occasionally was just close enough that he was comfortable.

He took another drag from the elfroot cigarette he had helped himself to from her stash and watched the smoke float away again as he exhaled.

“Didn’t know you smoked, Commander.”

He glanced up as Haldir sauntered over to him from the door that led to Pria’s apartment, and shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t. Not habitually, anyway,” he replied.

“Aah, a thinker-smoker. Sometimes the brain won’t shut up?”

“Close enough.”

“Mind if I join you, then?”

“Be my guest.”

Haldir picked up the little case from where Cullen had set it on the nearby table and pulled a cigarette for himself, tossed the case back down as he walked over.

“You left the lighter,” Cullen told him.

“S’cool, don’t need one,” the elf said, dropping to a knee by him as he set the cigarette between his lips and leaned in to touch the end of it to the burning embers of the one Cullen had just set back to his mouth. Haldir breathed in, and the cigarette flared to life after a moment. Cullen was struck by the closeness the movement had put the two of them in, the easy, casual intimacy that seemed to come so readily for the Lavellan cousins. It still surprised him that he felt so at ease with it. It was something that still surprised him, sometimes, that the Dalish had allowed him so close.

Haldir exhaled as he shifted and sat beside the man, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth in a long column. “So. You okay? You’ve been quieter than usual, lately.”

He blinked out of his reverie, shook his head slightly as he brought himself back to the present. Flicked a bit of ash from the end of his cigarette. “I’m alright,” he said, “Just needed to be a little away from everyone. To think.”

“And you couldn’t do that on your balcony?”

“I…yes. I could.”

“Hmm,” Haldir took a drag, blew out a smoke ring and watched float away. “You wanted to be alone, but still hear us. You want space but to still be close. You _can’t_ do that from _your_ balcony.”

Cullen flushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. It was almost alarming to him how a handful of months had made him so dependent on such an odd group of people. Before, outside of Cassandra and, oddly, Varric, he hadn’t been able to really say he had many _close_ friends. Now there was a pack of them, people he never would have thought he could get along with, eccentrics who had seized him and pulled him into their circle like they were an amoeba; now he wouldn’t trade their weird, misfit, sort of broken family for anything.

“I’ll take it from your silence that I’m right.”

“You think you’re always right.”

“Because I _am_ always right. Really, though. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Cullen snorted, smiling a little ruefully, “I’m not even sure I know.”

Haldir shifted, pulling his knees up a bit and resting his elbows on them. “Well. Gods know I have a set of ears for listening. Just talk,” he quipped with a slight grin and a little ear wiggle. Cullen’s smile widened a bit despite himself, “That joke still isn’t funny.”

“If it wasn’t funny, you wouldn’t smile every time you heard it.”

“You Lavellans give yourselves way too much comedic credit.”

“We’re hilarious. You just don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Prat.”

“Idiot shem.”

Cullen chuckled quietly and ground out the stub of his cigarette in the ash tray by them. Haldir watched him, letting a silence fall long enough for him to do so before gently nudging the man with his elbow, “So, come on then. Penny for your thoughts.”

“I really just wanted a little quiet.”

“Right. Okay, then we’ll do quiet.”

The elf let the silence fall again, contented himself with blowing smoke rings until his cigarette also burned to a stub and had to be snuffed out. Cullen had stretched his legs out in front of him, was leaning his weight on his hands as he looked up at the stars that were starting to come out. Haldir followed his gaze, tilting his head admiringly.

“We got around using those,” he said. “My family, I mean. When I was a kid. We had a host of maps that Mamae kept up, but Abi liked Wayfinding, better.”

“Wayfinding?”

Haldir lifted a hand, lining his thumb up with the horizon and closing an eye to count the distance between the stars that fit in the space between thumb and the top of his forefinger, “Using nothing but the stars to navigate. Wayfinding. Our stories said our ancestors used it when they first crossed the sea.”

He dropped his hand again, letting the arm rest on his knee. “At this point, though, we sort of know where everywhere is on this continent. So now I mostly just look at them and admire.”

“…My Da taught me how to tie knots.”

Haldir snorted, a laugh sputtering out of him, and Cullen grinned. “Yeah, sort of a let-down after something like _Wayfinding_ ,” he said.

“Hey, no, y’know—knots are _useful_. That’s a good bit of information to have on hand.”

“Sure, I appreciate the attempt at making me feel better.”

“Hey, you can’t help that you’re shem and don’t have ancient, mystic traditions dating back thousands upon thousands of years.”

“You sound so awestruck about it.”

“Tch. Those traditions can _fenedhis lasa_.”

Cullen laughed, watched Haldir flop backwards and pillow his head on his hands. “Honestly,” the elf said, “We don’t celebrate our way of life much, we mourn what _used_ to be, and that’s a shit way to go about existing. How’s someone supposed to have a good time?”

“You’re telling me all the rumors flying around about wild Dalish orgies in the woods aren’t true?” Cullen asked in mock surprise, adopting a wounded expression, “And here attending one of those has been a life ambition.”

“Well, they’re not orgies exactly, more like big dance parties and people sneak off for a little tumble pretty often, so sorry to crush that dream,” Haldir snickered, looked at his companion and raised a jaunty eyebrow, “And anyhow, you’re shem. You would only be allowed in one capacity.”

“What’s that?”

“Ritual sacrifice, of course.”

“Ah, of course. Nothing like the blood of your enemies to appease the gods.”

“You’re getting it. I’ll make a half-decent savage of you, yet.”

Cullen smiled and ran a hand through his hair, rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve a little of the tension that had lingered there most of the day. Haldir eyed him and gave his back and shoulders an appraising look. “You know, if you asked Pria, I’m sure she’d be happy to give you a massage, again,” he said.

“She’s busy,” the human replied, felt a slight flush color his cheeks.

Pria _was_ busy, working down in the shop two levels below them, but that was only a convenient excuse. If he were to be totally honest, he would tell Haldir that the last time had been heavenly torture for him. That all he could think about the next day was her fingertips dragging over his skin, her thighs pressing against his waist where she’d straddled it. That he craved more of her hands and her nearness, more of _her_.

The desire he had felt was something that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time and it scared him, a little. Pria was _Pria_ , and he was _him_ , with all his clumsy shyness and big bucketful of demons and issues. She deserved more, deserved better.

Haldir had been looking at the side of his face rather shrewdly. When Cullen didn’t elaborate on his answer, he scoffed quietly and sat up again, arms once again resting on his knees.

“You,” he informed the man, “Give yourself too little credit.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed and he looked at the other male blankly, “What?”

“She’s busy right now, yes, but she would happily get her hands on that pretty back of yours after she wasn’t. But you probably are thinking that you enjoyed last time entirely too much, and that it’d be too tempting to do so again, and that she is probably way out of your league—which I’d agree with, she’s out of everyone’s league except Dorian’s—but that doesn’t mean you don’t _deserve_ something with her.”

Cullen cleared his throat and shifted a bit uncomfortably, looking away so he didn’t have to keep looking into the Dalish’s too-clever eyes. “Hal, I think we spend too much time together and need to see other people.”

“And give up the hooks I have in your gorgeous hide? I don’t think so. Also, don’t try and deflect me, it won’t work.”

“Then can we _not_ talk about this?”

“You are such a stubborn idiot.”

“I have been told. Several times.”

“You know you’re a good man, right? You’re not _unworthy_ of her or anyone.”

“Hal. Stop. Just…don’t.”

Haldir rolled his eyes and sighed heavily in exasperation. “Such an _idiot_ shem,” he grumbled. “The gods only know why I hang around.”

“You really wanted someone to wear that t-shirt for Pride.”

“You’re not completely wrong. ‘Stag’ is appropriate for you, my friend, you’re a prime specimen of ideal human male virility.”

“…Thank you…?”

Haldir grinned impishly at the odd look Cullen gave him, something that was a little amused and a touch uncertain. “You’re very welcome,” he replied, looping an arm around the human’s neck and hauling him down a bit, ruffling long, slim fingers through the gold curls, disrupting them from their tamed place.

“Agh! _No!”_ Cullen sputtered and struggled a moment, fought off the deceptively strong arm and straightened with an annoyed sound. “Maker _dammit_ , Hal!” He ran his hands through his hair, trying to comb it back into place and only half succeeding.

“The vanity you display for your hair is cute, ma falon.”

“Shut up.”

Haldir snickered and accepted the playful shove Cullen gave him.

There was a loud burst of laughter as the door to the shop below opened for a moment and swung closed again, along with the rich smell of coffee and cinnamon. The pair took an appreciative breath as the smell reached them.

“I think Pria made that apple cake stuff,” Haldir said, rolling easily and fluidly to his feet. “I’m going down before Cassandra decides to claim it all. Joining me?”

Cullen mulled that over for a moment and nodded, pushed himself off the ground. “Since it’s that on the line,” he agreed, grabbing the cigarette case and following the elf to the door.

“Tch, sugar-fiend.”

“We all have our vices, Hal, don’t be judgy.”

“But I’m so good at it!”

They went through the door, descended the stairs and strolled across Pria’s comfortable apartment. The smell of cinnamon was stronger here, a square pan cooling on the stove top. He set the case down on the bar-top of her kitchen island as they passed by, continued down the stairs by the back door.

A wave of sound enveloped them as they exited the door at the bottom, back into the shop. The sound of happy chatter, laughter, the clink of cups.

“There they are!” Dorian exclaimed, “Off dallying, were we?”

“What else would I be doing?” Haldir said, sliding onto the stool beside the man, leaning in to kiss his bare shoulder.

“Such inconstancy,” Dorian mourned theatrically, gestured a hand at another open stool, “Do sit, good ser, we haven’t seen nearly enough of your pretty face lately.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, a smile sneaking onto his face as he sat. Varric was at his other side, paused with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. The dwarf eyed his hair and grinned, “Looking a little ruffled there, Curly.”

“Drink your coffee, dwarf.”

Varric chuckled and went back to his drink.

Cassandra appeared from the back, her face flushed a pretty pink, holding a stack of plates. Mahaal was close behind her, grinning rather impishly, holding a handful of forks and napkins. Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, and he was dully ignored as the two set their burdens at the end of the bar and sat down. He fought off a grin, but lost as Pria emerged from the back room, holding another square pan that she sat down and began to serve slices of warm cake from.

Sera trailed along after her, a bag of coffee beans in her arms. “It’s Cully-Wully and Hal! Smelled it, didn’ ya? Told you, Quizzie!” she sing-songed. Pria made a face at the back of the other woman’s head as she set plates down in front of her people. Animated chatter resumed again, Bull’s rumbling laugh booming out over it all.

She smiled as she set a plate in front of Cullen, leaned towards him a little, resting her arms on the bar by his. “Hey, stranger,” she said teasingly. “Alright?”

He smiled back, turning his hand a little to just rest his fingertips against her elbow. “I am,” he replied quietly, “Thank you for the use of your roof and a smoke.”

“You’re welcome to both any time you need them. Want anything to drink?”

“You’re the coffee goddess. Surprise me.”

She laughed and set a hand over his, gave it a soft, playful squeeze. “You charmer,” she teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “Alright, one surprise, coming up.”

Cullen watched her step back and walk towards the other side of the bar, bumping her hip into Sera’s as she picked up a little silver pitcher and began to throw something together. Sera bumped back, said something that had Pria laughing.

“So, Curly,” Varric said, earning his attention again, “How’s life treating ya?”

Cullen took a quick look around, at the spirited talk going on and the welcoming, homey feel of the shop. He picked up his fork and speared a bite of the cake in front of him.

“It’s not too bad at the moment,” he replied, “How is that new book coming along?”


	3. Pick Up, Aisle Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir always calls at weird hours of the morning, but this is unusual, even for him. Of course Cullen is going to answer the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely sure where this takes place on the time line. It's before Cullen and Pria are a thing, but Cullen and Haldir have definitely reached a point where they are close friends.

It's two a.m. Do you know where your friends are?

 

The phone going off roused Cullen from his sleep, squinting blearily at the bright screen as he groggily answered. “H’llo?” His voice was rough, hoarse from sleep and he cleared his throat before trying again, “Hello?”

“He-ey, Cullen!”

“Hal?” he blinked sleepily and rubbed his hand over his face, “Hal, do you know what time it is? I’m not going to the store with you.”

“I’m…ah…I actually have no idea what time it is.”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Fuck.”

“What did you call me for?”

“Uhm. Well…can…would you come pick me up?” Haldir actually sounded a little sheepish, a touch hesitant about asking.

Cullen sat up, his brow furrowed, “Pick you up? From where?”

“I’m uhm…I’m at the police station.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Look, I can’t talk much longer, can you come get me or no?”

“I—yes. Maker, yes, _of course_. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. See you then.”

Haldir hung up with a faint click, leaving Cullen to scramble out of bed and hastily pull clothes on before rushing out the door, keys in hand.

*-*-*-*

Haldir was sitting outside the station when Cullen pulled up, hunched on one of the benches with his knees drawn up to his chest. He unfolded as he saw the man and hurried over to slide in the passenger seat as Cullen looked at him in concern.

He got a flash of the impish, brilliant smile ( _that damn smile_ ) that was a Lavellan trademark. “Apologies for waking you from your beauty rest.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Cullen replied.

“Does it matter?” Haldir asked lightly, fiddling with the heat and holding his hands up to the vents to warm them.

Cullen frowned but pulled his attention away from the elf beside him in order to pull the car from the curb, merging back onto the mostly-empty street. “I think it does. Why call me and not Dorian or Bull?”

“They’re both out of town for work.”

“And that left only me?”

“Look, if I bothered you, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“No!” Cullen glanced at him before looking back to the road, “No, you didn’t. I’m just…trying to understand why you called me of all people to pick you up. From outside the police station.”

“I don’t know. Because you’re…reliable.”

“Wow. Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

Haldir scoffed faintly and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window determinedly, “It’s a compliment.”

“Will you tell me what happened that dropped you in the station, then?”

The elf shifted in his seat, seemed to shrink a little on himself as he sunk into the seat, “It was just a stupid misunderstanding.”

“Hal.”

“Cullen.”

“Elaborate, please.”

He rolled his eyes with a slight irritated grunt, “I was headed to the market and I accidentally knocked into some guy’s shoulder. I apologized and hadn’t gotten ten feet away before he was grabbing me and accusing me of stealing his wallet.”

Fizzling, angry disbelief turned Cullen’s stomach, “Are you _kidding_ me?”

Haldir shrugged a shoulder. “I told him I hadn’t but obviously he was louder than I was. Anyway, a beat cop was near enough to overhear, got there and took one look at the _vallaslin_ on my face and hauled me in.”

“And they held you until two in the morning?!”

“Let it go, Cullen. It happened, it’s done with.”

“It’s absurd! And wrong!”

“Yeah, well. _C’est la vie_.”

Cullen growled in irritation, glared out the windshield at the road. “I hope someone _did_ steal his wallet,” he muttered. His companion snorted, “I did, too. Turns out he left it at home, which is probably the only reason I’m out. His wife showed up with it when she heard he was at the station and raised two kinds of hell.”

“ _Good_. Better have given you a good apology, too.”

“Of course he didn’t.”

“What!”

“Don’t be stupid, Commander. Most people don’t even apologize to elves when they bump into them.”

“Bumping into someone and accusing someone of _theft_ —”

“What the fuck is on my face, Cullen.”

Cullen paused, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“My face. What do you see on it when you look at me.”

“I—an irritated look?”

“Tattoos. You see tattoos. I’m a savage, uncivilized Dalish. Everyone knows we’re lying, tricky thieves. Why should that asshole apologize for something everyone knows?”

Cullen opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say or how to say it. All he knew is that the man had been _wrong_ , and that people were _wrong_. Haldir was owed an apology, at the least, because Haldir was one of the most honest, caring people he had ever met, even if the elf had a decidedly odd way of showing it.

He heard the elf snort, an amused sound. “You are _such_ a knight-in-shining-armor,” he noted wryly, grinning. “Look at you, ready to ride off to defend my honor. It’s sort of disgusting.”

His face flushed, a little sliver of heat that rose up his neck and cheeks. “It’s not right, Hal,” he protested quietly, “It wasn’t fair.”

“You’re not wrong,” came the light-toned agreement, “But that’s how things are. At least I wasn’t charged—I can carry on as usual. That’s more than some get.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not interested in your apology or sympathy about it.”

It was a good sign, Cullen figured, that he found nothing personal meant in Haldir’s honest rebuke. The elf would definitely have more venom in his tone and a more colorful selection of words chosen if he meant something personal.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Haldir reached over and gave his shoulder a companionable shove, “Stupid question.”

“Right. ‘We’re survivors’.”

“You’re catching on, idiot shem. But I appreciate you asking.”

“Hungry or anything?”

“Yeah. But I really just want to sleep so this day can be over.”

Cullen glanced at him and took an appraising once-over of the elf, noted the drawn look to his face, the defensive ball he had curled himself into on the seat. The flat he shared with Dorian and Bull would be rather big and lonely with just him rattling around in it.

“Hal,” he said, quietly, “Would you like to crash at my flat? For tonight, at least?”

The Dalish turned his head just enough to peer at him from the corner of a glowing green eye. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and then nodded after a long moment. “Yeah. If you don’t mind the company, that’d be nice.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I minded.”

“Thanks, Cullen. For the pick-up, I mean. And everything.”

Cullen shrugged, smiled slightly as he pulled into the parking lot of his building. “You would do the same for me.”

“Yeah. Probably. But I would’ve brought food, so that makes me a more thoughtful person than you.”

“Excuse me? Offering my couch doesn’t make me thoughtful?”

“Tacos beat couches, Commander.”

The man rolled his eyes as he killed the engine and the pair climbed out of the car. “Should’ve left you on that bench.”

Haldir’s smiled was wolfish and all teasing, “You? The great golden Paladin? You’re much too nice to do that.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Someone has to. You don’t give yourself enough.”

“Oh. Really. Are we _really_ having this discussion again? It’s nearly four.”

“One of these days you’ll figure out that late night is the best time for any sort of discussion.”

“Ugh. You are such a prat.”

“Better a prat than an idiot shem.”

Cullen unlocked the door that led inside and pulled it open with a glower and a scowl that had no heat behind it. “An idiot shem that picked your ass up at a stupid hour in the morning. Play nice.”

Haldir grinned, “Commander, I will have you know I am the embodiment of playing nice.” Then he stuck his nose haughtily in the air and trotted inside, leaving Cullen to step in after him with a quiet, disbelieving-but-amused laugh.

 


End file.
